


Rituals

by fiercynn



Category: House M.D.
Genre: Bechdel Test Pass, F/F, Medical, Women Being Awesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-01-03
Updated: 2009-01-03
Packaged: 2017-10-02 04:07:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fiercynn/pseuds/fiercynn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He looked at her keenly, his eyebrows raised a fraction, but only for an instant – a sniper shot from those startling blue eyes. Then in characteristic House-fashion he merely grunted and limped off. But Cuddy knew that the look on her face was the same as Cameron's had been – an expression of satisfaction.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rituals

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lily_said](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=lily_said).



> Written for the femslash07 fic exchange, originally posted [here](http://fiercynn.livejournal.com/8530.html). Thanks to 430_pm for the beta!

It had to be a ritual, by now.

Every Friday, usually in the afternoon, House would enter Cuddy's office to complain about something, and then would follow the traditional battle of wits and sarcasm.

Cuddy always got the first word – she tried to vary it, depending on her mood – but who got the last word was up to the conversation. Secretly, Cuddy kept track of the winners in a file marked "Results of M. Jagger's echocardiogram" on her computer. At the moment, House was leading by three.

She was pretty sure he kept track too.

"Maybe I should get one of those signs on my door, like teenagers have," Cuddy said today, when he opened her door carelessly. "Old fogies, keep out." There.

"You think I'm some kind of parent? Puh-lease. Now, if you don't mind, we need to have a serious talk about the religious facilities at this hospital."

That was a new one. Cuddy leaned back in her chair. "What about them?"

"It seems there's a severe lack of support for agnostics here. Now, the atheists don't matter so much because they've made their choice and they usually stick to it with stubborn regularity, but if we've got help and areas of prayer for all the religious denominations, the I-don't-know suckers need something to fuel their indecision."

"Since when do you have any kind of sympathy for people who can't make up their minds?"

"I have lots of respect for agnostics," said House indignantly. "They know they're not smart enough to really know what's going on, which means they're not as idiotic as the rest."

"Whatever," said Cuddy, _feeling_ like a teenager for the moment. "In the meanwhile, there's something else we need to discuss."

House eyed her warily. "Oh no, you mean I actually fulfilled your evil plans by coming in here? You harpy. I'm getting too set in my ways."

"Do you know how many sexual harassment suits I could file right now for you calling your boss a 'harpy'?"

"Oh, that'd be far too easy for you." He paused. "Pun fully intended."

"You've been nominated to help write questions for the Board Exams this year," Cuddy continued, grabbing a pen from the stainless steel office supply holder that someone had given her as a birthday present.

"Oh, for the love of the uncertain deity," said House, exasperated. "Nominated? Who the hell wants me? Not including the obvious."

"Look, House, you of all people should want the next generation of doctors to be competent and prepared."

"Yes, but those who can't do, teach. I _can_ do," he said with characteristic arrogance.

"And look at this, you don't have to teach either! Just write questions."

"Along with a committee." House tapped his cane absently on the floor, just soft enough to hear but loud enough to be irritating. Being annoying was more than instinct to House, it was ordinary behavior.

"Yes, that is part of the deal."

"Well, I refuse."

"_House_. Do I have to play the, 'Is there anything you can't do, then?' card? Or is it time to review my negotiating skills? I know I have a book on it somewhere around here," said Cuddy.

"You and Cameron both. This morning she was trying to manipulate the differential diagnosis again. Not that I don't admire the effort, but that's really not the point of the Socratic Method."

"Oh, and your efforts at manipulation are fully validated?"

"I only manipulate when I know I'm right," said House with a snort. "You two should know that by now, but no. Sometimes I think you're almost the same person."

"I'm pretty sure the only thing Cameron and I have in common is that we're both women who work here and feel the need to bother you sometimes."

"You say that like it's a small thing," House complained. "Though it might be easier if all the people who bothered me were women. Hey, there's an idea - maybe I can convince Foreman to get a sex change."

"Everyone bothers you," said Cuddy darkly, "and believe me, the feeling is entirely mutual." She sighed. "Look, we have to talk about it sometime. I have about another hour's worth of paperwork – you can go to your office and look at porn or something –"

"Really? Thanks, Mom!"

"– and then I'll come drag you off to the cafeteria. Their greasy food seems to be something that you can't get enough of."

"Did it occur to you that I might actually have plans on a Friday night?" House said, glowering.

"No," said Cuddy with a snort.

House narrowed his eyes at her, though that hardly diminished their glare. "Fine, but if you're buying me dinner, I get to choose a place swankier than the Princeton-Plainsboro cafeteria. I want to be sure you're not just using me for my body. Who knows if you'll respect me in the morning?"

"I didn't say anything about _buying_ you –"

"Angelina's at seven? You won't need to change, don't worry. The mâitre de there is something of a perve – he should get a kick out of your idea of business-chic."

Cuddy forgot all her protests and scowled at him. "Fine. Now leave."

"Ooh, touchy." He paused as he was leaving, the door half open. "Hey, should I tell the cafeteria staff to cut down on the greasiness? I'm sure they'd want to know that the head of the hospital wasn't pleased with the food here. You don't have to bother, leave it all to me."

Cuddy just rolled her eyes. Damn it. Four more weeks to catch up on.

*

Angelina's was only a couple of miles away from the hospital, but after slogging through quarterly malpractice insurance claims, the minutes spent waiting at stoplights felt endless.

As soon as Cuddy entered the restaurant, she spotted Dr. Cameron sitting alone at a table, and her heart sank slightly. She should've expected something like this, some kind of trick. Though it was difficult, with House; there was never that recollection that convincing him "had been too easy" because it never was – he could somehow judge the exact amount of refusal and stubbornness to use to manipulate someone into doing what he wanted. It was reverse psychology with a twist, because one could usually count on House to resist even when he was being sincere. Cuddy usually saw through it, but she supposed that statistically, there had to be a few times when either he did it too well, or she was caught off her guard and failed to decipher his intentions.

Either way, it left her stuck in a somewhat sticky situation.

Cuddy knew that the easiest - no, the _kindest_ thing to do would be to pretend to Cameron that this was Cuddy's intention. Perhaps she had arranged for this meeting in order to "check up" on Cameron, had somehow coerced House into playing this trick on his employee, and he had complied out of the mischief of his own heart. It might save her a small measure of embarrassment and keep Cameron in relatively blissful naivete for a little longer. But there was the fact that she couldn't maintain the lie as soon as they got back to work, and even despite that, a small part of her insisted that she couldn't coddle Cameron, no matter her age and inexperience. House was dangerous in many, many ways, but if Cuddy had to deal with the consequences of all his actions, so did everyone else in his orbit.

She made her way over to the table, and when Cameron noticed her, her astonished look was exactly what Cuddy had predicted. "Dr. Cuddy! Um, what a surprise to see you here."

"I could say the same," said Cuddy. "Are you waiting for Dr. House, by any chance?"

"Yes," said Cameron; to her credit, she looked straight at Cuddy as she said it, and Cuddy felt another twinge of guilt, coupled with age-old annoyance at House.

"Well. Me too," she said, and sat down in the chair opposite Cameron.

After a brief moment, Cameron seemed to deflate a little, and she busied herself with smoothing out the napkin on her lap as she let out a soft, "Oh."

"Yes," confirmed Cuddy, giving her that resigned _I'll-kill-him-later_ look, but she let herself smile slightly. "But since we're both here, how about we order a bottle of wine?"

*

Cuddy ordered a risotto dish, and Cameron went with fettuccini alfredo. "What can I say, it's classic," she said wryly. She was on her second glass of merlot and was certainly more relaxed, though Cuddy was sure that it had to do with the amount of time that had passed as much as the alcohol.

"Don't tell me you don't like to try new things," said Cuddy, almost wincing at her double negative. Clearly her tongue was looser too, if she was sacrificing grammar in an attempt at wit.

"Oh, no, I do. But there's a certain comfort in familiarity too, don't you think?" Cameron's gaze was earnest as always, but there seemed to be genuine curiosity as well.

Of course Cuddy agreed. She was practically the cliché of a woman set in her ways. She wasn't even what you could call a workaholic, but there was no distinction between work and life, in her mind. She was the kind who'd say, _I've worked hard to get where I am_, as if it were an excuse for something – for anything in her life. And that wasn't particularly about to change.

"Yes," she said, briefly, watching Cameron pick at her salad. At least some clichés weren't always true; Cameron may have been a slim young thing but she still liked cream sauce. "I'm certainly a lot less impulsive than I was in med school, or during my residency. Quite a bit of that does have to do with familiarity. I just worry about…stagnation, the problems of consistency. I'm still kept on my toes constantly, but most of that is caused by outside circumstances, not by anything I intend to do."

Cameron looked at her thoughtfully, sipping her wine again and tucking a stray lock of brown hair behind her ear. "I don't think you have to worry about that, Dr. Cuddy," she said. "I get the impression that your intentions play into your actions more strongly than you think."

"I can only hope," said Cuddy with a smile as the waiter arrived with their courses.

*

The good part about the night was that House may have thought it was a win-win situation for him, since either he would have successfully antagonized both of them, which he clearly loved, or he would get away scot-free – but he was wrong. The unintended side-effect was that Cameron and Cuddy now had something to connect them, something that may have started with House but hadn't continued that way. By some unspoken rule they hadn't mentioned him after the beginning of the evening, and in a way, Cuddy wished she _had_ thought of taking Cameron out to dinner to check up on her because it was rather fascinating. And…pleasant. She was further pleased by the idea that House's insatiable curiosity would leave him feeling unsatisfied when they didn't grouse at him. The side effects were that he'd poke more, but Cuddy could handle that.

The bad part was that apparently, Cuddy was now letting herself slip a little.

The following Monday morning, Cameron smiled at her as she came in and said, "Good morning, Dr. Cuddy."

Cuddy, without thinking, smiled back and murmured, "Morning," before looking back down at a chart. But she glanced back up for an instant to see Cameron's smile grow wider, an unreadable emotion on her face as she walked to the elevator.

Uh-oh.

House's entrance (about an hour and a half later) provoked something of a different reaction. This time, it was Cuddy who could not help singing out, "Good morning, Dr. House."

He looked at her keenly, his eyebrows raised a fraction, but only for an instant – a sniper shot from those startling blue eyes. Then in characteristic House-fashion he merely grunted and limped off. But Cuddy knew that the look on her face was the same as Cameron's had been – an expression of satisfaction.

She wasn't sure what there was to be satisfied about, exactly, on either side. On the one hand it felt like some elaborate inside joke, though she hadn't thought she'd cared about that kind of thing for a long time. It was amazing how juvenile House could make you feel. She was sure that she and Cameron both played on that, to some extent, to get back at him or to attempt to keep some level of control.

But there was something else, too. There was something nice about seeing a different side of Cameron, not only a side that Cuddy had never seen, but also a side that no one else had ever seen. Even House. Cuddy knew the two of them had been on a date before, but she couldn't imagine that it would have been as easy as the one she and Cameron had enjoyed.

The dinner, that was.

The next time she saw Cameron was that afternoon outside an operating room, the other doctor dressed in scrubs and speaking to the father of House's current patient. Cameron glanced up at for a mere instant but the corner of her mouth flicked into a smile. Again, she looked more like a cat in the cream than someone smiling out of politeness or deference. It unsettled Cuddy. She wasn't sure why.

Somehow, it kept happening throughout the next few days. Cameron would slip by her in the clinic, murmuring greetings with curved lips, or she'd slyly hand Cuddy a cup of coffee when Cuddy visited the Diagnostics room to check up on House.

House gave her sideways glances too, and Cuddy wondered if she was really the one doing the checking up, especially since Cuddy tried not to feel somewhat pleased and mysterious at the curiosity.

On Wednesday, she dropped by the Diagnostics room again. House and the three fellows were looking at results of blood tests, the air punctuated by their remarks, while Wilson leaned on the counter and looked on, interjecting comments. Cuddy was used to the way they batted their ideas about, but it always seemed almost graceful, the way a well-played game of tennis was filled with grace.

Still, she cleared her throat from the doorway. "Sorry to interrupt," she said unapologetically as they looked up. "House, the Board Exam committee meeting is tomorrow at six."

Wilson looked at House amusedly. House opened his mouth to argue and she hurried on, "You had your chance to negotiate and you blew it, remember?"

He closed his mouth and gave her another look, mocking, but Cuddy was surprised to find that it didn't affect her. She leveled a glance back at him that she knew was neutral and businesslike, and his eyebrows rose just a little higher.

"Is there anything you'd like to say to the class, House?" she said as playfully stern as she could manage.

"Nothing, oh Mistress of Tyranny. I guess I'll be there."

The only other thing she noticed as she breezed out was that Cameron was smirking at her, but there was nothing close to mocking in Cameron's face.

*

Even after everything, Cuddy was expecting nothing but the usual that Friday when the door to her office opened. She didn't bother to look up from her paperwork. "I still haven't figured out how you get past my secretary, House."

"Actually, I just asked," said Cameron. Cuddy looked up quickly as Cameron closed the door carefully behind her.

Well, this was...different. Cuddy cleared her throat. "Is this about the anemic patient to whom House wants to give a blood transfusion? You know it's risky."

"The likelihood of having undetected diseases in the blood is low enough to make it worthwhile," Cameron insisted, launching into a speech that may not have been exactly prepared, but that she was clearly expecting to give. Cuddy couldn't help but feel impressed. It was sensible, earnest, full of concern and the right amount of caring, and just the slightest bit glib. At the core, it was exactly the same thing that House would have said, but with a bare sheen of humanity that made it seem reasonable. Cuddy wasn't even irritated, really, because Cameron wasn't trying to con her – she was trying to _convince_ her. It was rather refreshing.

Still, when Cameron was finished with her oratory achievement, Cuddy looked at her and said, "No."

Cameron blinked, looking surprised – and now Cuddy _was_ annoyed, though by her presumption – and nodded, pressing her lips together thoughtfully. "Well, thanks anyway, Dr. Cuddy."

As Cameron was opening the door, Cuddy said suddenly, "Dr. Cameron, why did House send you instead of getting his daily fix of bothering me?" Cuddy could think of many reasons – he was tired or in pain, he was teasing Cuddy, he was testing Cameron, it was some kind of surprise attack intended to actually persuade Cuddy, he was playing both of them again, he was sending his immunologist to talk about a problem with virally transmitted diseases. Knowing House, it was most likely some twisted combination of all of them. But Cuddy wanted to know what he'd told Cameron, or what she herself thought.

"He didn't send me. I volunteered," said Cameron, leaving Cuddy with an annoying but familiar crease in her forehead.

*

After many years of living alone, Cuddy stopped feeling pathetic about staying home on certain weekend nights. It wasn't denial – or at least, it wasn't _just_ denial. She had friends, some close and some acquaintances, and she'd had a fair share of dates in the past few years, though few of them went past a second or third dinner. She had something of a social life when she wanted it, and if work was still more important, then that was just the kind of person that she was.

No, it was about relaxation, and about need. She needed her share of vegging out, and if it was alone a lot of the time, then so be it. This night, she poured herself a glass of red wine and put on _Moulin Rouge_, and it was possibly the choice of movie that made her feel more pathetic than the manner in which she watched it. Ah well. She needed Ewan McGregor _and_ Nicole Kidman tonight, it seemed, and if she'd cried at the end, well, that was okay.

*

The next day, the doorbell rang. It was a bright Saturday afternoon, and Cuddy wasn't expecting anyone, or so she thought. She opened the door.

Cameron stood on the doorstep, looking strangely intent. Something flickered in her eyes as she looked at Cuddy.

Cuddy kept her hand resting on the frame of the doorway, gripping it as she said smoothly, "Dr. Cameron."

Unfortunately, she couldn't think of anything else to say.

But Cameron didn't seem to notice. "I do have a reason for coming here, though don't worry, it's nothing urgent," she said.

Cuddy blinked. For the first time, Cameron sounded faintly nervous, or at least unsure. God, she was so _young_. Though it had the advantage of letting Cuddy feel at least a little in control, for once. "Well, that's good, I suppose. What can I do for you?"

"Can I come in?"

"Of course. Excuse my rudeness," Cuddy said politely, feeling irritated. She liked this kind of game sometimes, though she'd be loath to admit it, but now she was just curious and a bit frustrated. "You've been here before, haven't you?" she said, just to be the tiniest bit spiteful. Cameron looked at her questioningly and she turned to go into the kitchen. "I seem to recall a case where House felt it was necessary to search my home –"

"Oh, no. I think that was Chase and Foreman," Cameron said, though she did sound embarrassed. "And Dr. House himself. He insisted." She followed Cuddy into the kitchen and put both hands on the counter as if to steady herself while Cuddy took two glasses out of the cabinet.

"Anything to drink?"

"Just some water, please."

Cuddy filled two glasses of water and handed one to Cameron. She sipped her own and said, "So, Dr. House –"

Cameron tilted her head to the side slightly and said, "Can we not talk about Dr. House just now?" Her tone was even, but still had a faint nervousness.

Cuddy raised her eyebrows. "I assumed the reason you were here –"

"I didn't say it was a good reason," said Cameron, the tiniest smile on her face. "It's just – you said I should try new things, right?"

"Yes, Cameron, but…?"

"You can call me Allison, if you want," Cameron said easily.

"And I suppose you want to call me Lisa?" said Cuddy, not able to help herself.

Cameron nodded just a little bit, but she didn't look away from Cuddy's eyes. "Yes, I do want," she whispered, and leaned in to kiss Cuddy.

Okay. Cuddy had expected this, to some extent. She didn't even know where in her mind or body it had occurred to her, and she was mildly irritated at that part for not informing her sooner that this was clearly inevitable, but she knew what to do. She always knew what to do, and in this situation it should be easy, with Cameron being eager and earnest and melodramatic and all other sorts of dippy words.

But. Cameron was kissing her firmly, determinedly, and Cuddy realized that she was so used to seeing Cameron as connected to House that she had forgotten about her pretty-girl confidence. She had somehow forgotten how straight her hair was even when it was down, and how hard her eyes could glare, and she had even forgotten that the little glibness in her voice was not always there. There was manipulating and twisting, and then there was just pushing for what you wanted. Cameron could do both, but right now it was purely the latter.

And really, this wasn't at all about House. It shouldn't have ever been about House, but somehow circumstances and House's pure force of personality got into the way and muddled everything. Cuddy could almost feel her vision clear through that knowledge, and it felt good and –

And _satisfying_.

Cameron kissed her, pushing her up against the sink counter and sliding her slim hands over Cuddy's waist. Cuddy finally closed her eyes, willing herself to stop looking at the resolve in Cameron's face because it was undoubtedly sexy. She brought a hand up to smooth Cameron's hair, and then dropped the hand down to Cameron's neck, resting it there and kissing Cameron back.

Their lips moved wetly around each other, with tongues and teeth and noses bumping, but somehow still contained. Cameron drew closer to her and their bodies were pressed together, Cuddy's skin tingling underneath her usual low-neck shirt. Cameron's breath hitched as Cuddy's fingers skidded down to her waist, pushing up her shirt hem and gliding over her stomach and finally up to cup her breasts. Cuddy squeezed, and Cameron hissed and, oh god, bit Cuddy's lip almost too hard but enough to feel good. Cuddy couldn't help playing with the nipples through the thin fabric of the bra and Cameron kept moaning softly into Cuddy's mouth and Cuddy wanted to _taste_ her more, other parts of her, all parts of her, to keep getting that breath of fresh air, but there was time. There was plenty of time.

After some time they were too out of breath and they separated, panting quietly into each others necks. But after a moment Cameron pulled away and told her softly, "I'm not too young."

Cuddy almost smiled again at her nervousness. She had thought that before but now – it almost didn't matter. They were doctors; they grew up when they were young and stayed grown up for a very long time. It was all about relationships and equality and on that count, they were fine. "I know," she said, clearly surprising Cameron.

Cameron blinked. "Good," she said slowly.

"Am I too old?" Cuddy continued, almost teasing. "Too stagnant?"

Cameron gave her a look of exasperation she usually saved for the men in her life, and Cuddy was somewhat flattered by the familiar gesture. "No," she said, "obviously," and leaned in again.

*

Nothing ever changed _too_ much at Princeton-Plainsboro – at least, nothing that was really worth it. Doctors that somehow didn't fit in would eventually be filtered out, either by frustration that they were not getting enough responsibility, or through more direct methods. Even administrators were the same way; Vogler was a prime example of something gone wrong that corrected itself. Well, House and Cuddy had played their parts, of course, but it could have been called part of the natural cycle.

Every so often, though, something small slipped through the metaphorical bars, something that shifted the equilibrium and tilted perspectives. A breath of fresh air. It was healthy and kept life from being too stuck, or being too uninteresting. And eventually, it would settle into its own pattern. That was just the way things worked.

Evidently, this was how it would be with Mondays from now on.

Cameron knocked this time, and Cuddy hadn't really been ready because it wasn't Friday and it wasn't morning, but obviously she'd have to get used to unpredictability from now on. If that was even possible.

Cameron came in with a smile, and it wasn't shy or insinuating or even nervous, this time. It was comfortable, comfor_ting_, and eager in a way that didn't speak of drooling puppy dogs. Ordinary, happy eagerness. Cuddy could deal with that.

"Morning," said Cameron cheerfully, but didn't wait for an answer. "Do you want to have dinner out tonight?"

"It's Monday," said Cuddy dryly, refraining from making an _old-ladies-like-me_ joke.

"Uh-huh. Where would you like? I was thinking Chinese this time."

Cuddy gave in and they debated for a while, finally settling on a restaurant in the center of town. "I'll see you at seven, then," Cuddy said, and Cameron nodded as she headed for the door.

"Oh, and Lisa?"

Cuddy looked at her, and an almost elfin grin appeared on Cameron's face. "Yes?" she said warily.

"I may not be House, but Mondays are just as important as Fridays," Cameron told her. "Get used to it." And she left.

After a moment, Cuddy sighed, turning to her computer, and she opened up the M. Jagger file. Then, grudgingly, she added Cameron's name along with two marks for this week and the week before.

At least, she thought, Cameron had a long record to catch up on.


End file.
